Time
by Lililedger
Summary: For sixteen years, Severus Snape has been mourning her loss.


**Warnings:** This story contains massive spoilers for all seven books. Proceed with caution.

**Disclaimer:** I do not, never have, and never will own Harry Potter. This story is written for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

The boy had her eyes.

He had warned me, of course.

"Do not be surprised when you see him, Severus. By now, you surely expect him to look like his father. You wouldn't be wrong, but no one would ever deny that he is Lily's son."

I had prepared myself for this inevitability, of course. I expected the shape to be the same.

Green eyes are a recessive trait. I am familiar enough with the muggle sciences to know that much.

I had been expecting merely an out-of-place shape on James Potter's face. I was fully prepared to hate the boy because of his father, because he was alive while she was lost to me.

My wish went unheard. I was faced not with a cheap copy, as I had expected, but with Lily Evans' eyes, precise shape and color.

He was his father in every imaginable way, but Lily's eyes, one of my most treasured memories of her, lived on in him.

He was the embodiment of my nightmares. Living proof that Lily always belonged to James. That she never would've chosen me. Yet, he was my only link to her. And for that, I hated him.

And yet, I didn't.

* * *

He is only twelve years old when he decides it would be smart to drive a flying car to school. He crashes, naturally, into a tree which nearly kills him. I had thought, rather foolishly, that the dangers that followed him through his first year might have taught him something, but no such luck.

The rest of that year passes as normally as the boy's life will ever be. I treat him with disgust, partially because I know he is his father, and partially so that I never start to think that he could be his mother.

The Weasley girl watches him with a look I know well. A look I have worn many times. He doesn't even notice her, too focused on blaming the most recent trouble on the Slytherins. He's so very much like his father, though, thankfully, there are no similarities between Draco and me.

He saves the Weasley girl's life later that year, but he never really notices her. I suspect he never will. I cannot dwell on this long, though. What matters to me is that he has nearly cost me those eyes again. It is clear to me now, more than ever, that I am doomed to 5 more years of James Potter, but the thought that I may lose those eyes a second time chills me to the bone. I hate him.

And yet, I can't.

* * *

The boy is a danger magnet. Only just entering his teenage years, he has already faced more trouble than most people face in a lifetime. Now he is facing werewolves and wanted criminals. It matters not that they should pose no threat, the boy could make _pudding_ dangerous.

He comes out of it alive, like I suspected he would. It seems almost ridiculous to worry about him now. He takes care of those eyes.

He fought a horde of dementors with his father's influence, yet the ability seems so similar to Lily's. Sometimes, I wonder if maybe he is her child after all.

And then he does something stupid, and I am placated.

* * *

By the end of his fourth year, I have almost lost her again.

The boy is smart enough to figure out that I am not what I seem to be. Or rather, he is lucky enough to catch a glimpse of my dark mark. He already suspected me, a hatred no doubt handed down from his father. He's got his father's brains too. It never occured to him that I could be a spy. Like his father before him, he won't see anything good about people unless it benefits him.

He had been entered in the Triwizard Tournament and I thought for sure that would be the end of him. It would be ridiculous to expect him to _survive_, let alone win.

But Dumbledore had more faith in him than I did. The boy flourished, and won, but not without cost. He faced the Dark Lord. He very nearly lost his life the way she had. Hogwarts lost one of it's best students.

The Dark Lord rose again, and for me, every day was another day closer to the inevitable end.

* * *

The boy is fifteen years old and as arrogant as ever.

Dumbledore wants me to teach him Occlumency. It protects me from the Dark Lord, and he hopes it will do the same for the boy.

I don't want to teach him anything, don't want to be one-on-one with James's son.

But for her, I will do it.

I regret it soon after when he manages to deflect me, flashes of my childhood, and I know what's coming next. He'll see us together. I can't let him see. I won't let James Potter's son hold that over me.

So I quit. He knows the basics. He can protect himself.

I won't lose to Potter.

* * *

Dumbledore is dead.

Dumbledore was _killed._

_I_ killed Dumbledore.

The boy hates me for it. He comes after me, screaming.

He dares to call me a coward.

I cannot help myself. I attack him, but I am smart enough not to do any damage.

He doesn't understand! He could never understand! He is nothing like her! He is truly his father's son!

I am a coward.

But everything I do I do for her.

Her and those beautiful eyes.

* * *

The boy is seventeen years old, an adult, and he is watching me die.

Their is no anger in his eyes, and I am so surprised.

He's leaning over me, so unsure of what to do, and for a moment, I see her.

It's time. He deserves answers. I'll let him see it. I'll tell him everything. About me, and about her.

The memories leak out, and Granger leans over me to collect them. Poor girl, I never hated you. You were just too much like her. Too smart. Good at everything you tried.

I'm fading now, I can feel it, but I'm not finished yet.

"Look at me!"

He does. Those eyes are the last thing I can see.

And, for once, I am happy.


End file.
